


and when it's good then it's good, it's so good

by Deanon



Category: SAKANA
Genre: Abusive Relationship, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,750
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557213
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deanon/pseuds/Deanon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>And when it's good then it's good, it's so good, till it goes bad</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	and when it's good then it's good, it's so good

This was… nice.  
  
They hadn’t gone out like this in months. Yuudai had been picking up every extra hour he could get at the stall, thanking god for every dollar of overtime. And Arata had been… well, Arata had been busy, and Yuudai was more than willing to put aside all of his doubts when Arata had his arm around Yuudai’s shoulder in public, after spending all day with him.  
  
They were settled down on a bench, watching people walk by, as Yuudai finished off the last of a powdered donut and savored the happiness that hummed under his skin.  
  
“I’ve missed you,” Arata mumbled into his hair. “It’s like you never take time to see me anymore.”  
  
This wasn’t strictly true, but Yuudai licked a bit of powdered sugar off of his thumb and just said, “I’ve been working – “  
  
“That damn stall doesn’t pay you enough,” Arata grumbled, stealing the rest of Yuudai’s fingers and licking the powdered sugar off of them, smiling when Yuudai shivered. Yuudai yanked his hand away and scowled – both at the comment and at the fact that people were  _staring at them_  – but Arata just smiled wider.  
  
“They’re fine,” Yuudai said, resisting the urge to wipe his fingers on his pants. Arata’s arm fell from his shoulders, leaving his skin cold where it had been.  
  
After a moment, Yuudai muttered, “I’ve missed you too.”  
  
The reassuring pressure of Arata leaning into his shoulder released something that had been tightening in Yuudai’s chest, and he smiled again, leaning back into the pressure.  
  
This was okay. Good. Perfect.  
  
“We’re going back to your place after this, right?” Arata said into his shoulder, his arm creeping around Yuudai’s waist with intent.  
  
He worked in the morning, but – “Uh, sure,” Yuudai mumbled. Arata hated waking up early, or waking up alone, but either of those would start less of a fight than saying no.  
  
(And Yuudai  _wanted_  Arata to stay over, really. If nothing else, he really hated falling asleep alone.)  
  
Yuudai watched people pass and tried to just enjoy the moment – even if Arata was now texting someone with his free hand. Two children ran by. Another couple walked by, giving an askance look at Yuudai and Arata (as though there was any  _other_  way to interpret two guys cuddling together on a bench, seriously, you’d think people living in Tokyo would be used to this by now) –   
  
“Hey! Yuudai!”  
  
Yuudai nearly jumped right out of the grasp of Arata’s arm. Who the hell would be calling to him in a park? He hardly talked to anyone, outside of –   
  
Oh.  
  
“Wow, I didn’t know you came to this park too!” Jiro said past panting breaths, beaming at Yuudai. Yuudai irrationally hated him for smiling like that. “I come running here all the time and I’ve never seen you. And - Oh, uh, who’s this?” Jiro finally noticed Arata, who was watching Jiro with nothing short of open hostility.  
  
“This, uh,” Yuudai mumbled. Arata’s arm had disappeared from around Yuudai’s waist again, and for some reason Yuudai’s stomach was sinking, and he just wanted Jiro to keep running, possibly right into the ocean. “This is my – uh – this is Arata.” He couldn’t hold back his flinch at how terrible that sounded from  _any_  perspective. “I don’t really come here much.”  
  
“Oh,” Jiro said, clearly picking up on Yuudai’s discomfort. “Um, well, hi, Arata?” Jiro looked distinctly uncomfortable for a moment, and then said, “Well, I’ll see you at work then, Yuudai! Sometime!” And took off running again, maybe at a slightly faster pace than before.  
  
Well. That could have been more awkward, but Yuudai wasn’t sure how.  
  
“Who was that?” Arata asked. He had moved until he wasn’t touching Yuudai at all, and god, shit.  
  
“That was my coworker,” Yuudai said. “The – uh – the stupid owner’s nephew. Couldn’t keep his job to save his life if the old man wasn’t such a philanthropist.”  
  
(This was probably true, but it didn’t mean that Yuudai didn’t feel like a bit of an asshole saying it.)  
  
“You never mentioned him before,” Arata said.  
  
“It never came up!” Yuudai snapped, and immediately regretted it as Arata’s expression turned stormy. People were sending them nervous glances, and Yuudai suddenly intensely wished that they weren’t in a park.  
  
“Any other young male athletes that just  _never came up_?” Arata near-shouted, and Yuudai’s face burned, spreading down his neck and into his chest.  
  
“I’m,” Yuudai said. People were staring, a couple children had stopped playing to listen, and Arata was glaring at him as though Yuudai had done something  _wrong_ , and he mumbled, “Look, can we just go?”  
  
He was up and moving before he heard Arata say behind him, “Whatever,” and get up to follow him.  
  
The subway ride back to Yuudai’s apartment was long, and tense, and achingly silent. At the station Yuudai had half-expected Arata to head his own way, but he had tersely gotten on the same station platform as Yuudai. On the train, he sat as uncomfortably close to Yuudai as ever, even though the subway was much fairly empty at this time of day.  
  
The entire time, Arata didn’t so much as look at Yuudai, and Yuudai barely looked anywhere that wasn’t Arata.  
  
When they got back to Yuudai’s apartment, Yuudai held the door open for Arata – because he wasn’t sure what else to do, because he wanted a chance to  _explain_ , god damn it - and Arata barely passed through the door frame before he said, “You never answered my damn question.”  
  
After working out  _what question_  Arata was referring to (and  _oh, god damn it, really_ ), Yuudai snapped, “Damn it, they’re my  _coworkers_ , it’s not like you’re interested in my job in the first place, and it’s not like I think of any of  _them_  as anything other than nuisances!”  
  
The door closed behind Arata with a  _slam_ , nearly scaring Yuudai out of his skin.  
  
“You sure as hell spend more time with them than you do with me,” Arata said, but he was backing Yuudai up against the wall next to the door, and his expression was almost a smile, albeit a slightly malicious one. “Can’t blame me for thinking you might like them better.”  
  
“I’m sorry,” Yuudai said, because it seemed like the thing to say, because it might keep Arata smiling. And it worked, kind of – Arata leaned in and kissed his cheek, falsely chaste when he put his hand firm and low on Yuudai’s waist with the same motion. “I – liked today,” Yuudai whispered, relief finally daring to combine with arousal in the pit of his stomach. Maybe Arata was done being angry. Maybe today really would end well.  
  
“You damn well better have,” Arata said in his ear, and the relief froze cold; Yuudai knew the tones of Arata’s voice, and knew that that tone was still dangerous, if not outright angry. “Not like we’re doing anything that  _I_  want to do, anyways.”  
  
“What?” Yuudai pulled back from Arata’s touch, blinking.  
  
“These damn dates are always  _all_  about you, so I sure  _hope_  you enjoy them, is all I’m saying,” Arata said, pressing forward again, pinning Yuudai fully against the wall, his lips moving from Yuudai’s cheek to down his neck. The motion made Yuudai feel a little sick.  
  
“The date was your idea,” Yuudai snapped, trying to pull his head away from Arata. His heartbeat sped up, pounding uncomfortably in the back of his head. He wasn’t sure  _how_  to feel at this point.  
  
Arata followed Yuudai, kissing at his neck before pulling away and saying, “Well, if you weren’t such a damn  _chick_  and I could get you to invite me back here without fucking  _charming_  you every time – “  
  
“I’m sorry that I  _like spending time with you_?” Yuudai’s voice was rising, and he shoved at Arata’s shouders, not that Arata seemed to notice at all. “If you hate going out so much we don’t have to!”  
  
“Right,” Arata was on the verge of yelling right in Yuudai’s face, his hands still firm on Yuudai's waist. Something hot and not at all like the arousal of a minute ago spread through his chest, something like shame, or maybe fear, or definitely  _anger_. “Like you  _wouldn’t_  go running off with Mr. attractive-athlete-coworker the minute I turned my back!”  
  
“ _I’m_  the one who would be running off?” Yuudai yelled.  
  
“ _Fuck you!_ ” Arata was shouting, and then everything happened very fast – Yuudai shoved at him with full force and Arata’s fist came up, level with Yuudai’s face -   
  
And for a second things moved very, very slow, so slow that Yuudai could feel his whole body curl in and flinch, his jaw clenching and his fists curling and his heart stopping entirely as he thought,  _shit, shit_  –   
  
Arata’s fist connected with the drywall with a  _BANG_  that left Yuudai’s ears ringing. His heartbeat caught up with the proceedings and went from stopped to hammering in less than a second.  
  
For a second, the apartment was deafeningly silent, except for their breathing and their heartbeats and a lot of things that weren’t being said.  
  
“Fuck this,” Arata said a second later, and for all that he was no longer shouting, his voice somehow seemed just as loud as a minute before. “I can’t fucking stay here. I can’t even  _look_  at you.”  
  
And just like that he was gone, door slammed behind him so hard that bits of blood-flecked plaster fell out of the hole he had made in the drywall.  
  
“Fuck,” Yuudai whispered. He couldn’t move. He didn’t want to see how close that hole actually was to his head – no more than a few inches, so close that his ear was still tingling, so close that his fists were still clenched, his stomach still braced for impact. “Fuck.”  
  
After a while – a few seconds, a few minutes, an hour, it was hard to say – Yuudai sank down to the floor and tilted his head back to stare up at the ceiling. His heartbeat was finally slowing, but his mind was still blank and silent.  
  
He blinked up at the grey-white ceiling of his shitty little apartment and he thought of how he was going to pay for that fucking hole in the fucking wall, and he thought of the half-second when he was so sure that Arata's fist was going to connect with his jaw.  
  
“ _Fuck._ ”  
  
(In his pocket, Yuudai’s phone buzzed with a text, and Yuudai turned it off without even looking at it.)


End file.
